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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

H?ra had never held anyone while they slept.

Her kind didn’t know the practice, and she’d had no reason to embrace a sleeping Jonathan, although she’d watched him once out of curiosity.

She must have been saving it for Madeleine, whose body was warm in her arms. They lay in Madeleine’s new bed—the one they’d sat together on only this morning.

H?ra was curled up behind Madeleine.

From the sky, they must look like a nautilus shell.

They were a perfect fit.

What else could they be?

She had finally claimed her mate.

Her mate had claimed her in return.

H?ra hadn’t expected that—not from cautious, reserved Madeleine.

But the woman who’d once worn a nun’s habit had teeth to match H?ra’s own, and she’d devoured H?ra, body and soul.

Depths below. H?ra had thought there could be no pleasure more primal than Madeleine’s fingers inside her, fucking her so eagerly.

She hadn’t counted on what it would be like to see Madeleine licking H?ra’s juices from her fingers, as hungry as any Each-uisge had ever been.

Seeing that—having the sure knowledge Madeleine, too, had starved—had driven H?ra to climax immediately.

She’d come so hard she’d almost lost consciousness.

But she’d managed to stay awake, and instead she had lain atop Madeleine, both of them almost naked.

They had kissed and kissed.

H?ra hadn’t known you could kiss anybody like that, when you were sated instead of just wanting more.

She hadn’t known kisses could be lazy, soft, and tender.

There must be all sorts of kisses, then.

She and Madeleine would share them all.

Eventually, Madeleine had groaned and said the floor was hurting her back, and they’d had to get up.

She’d seemed oddly shy.

What would happen next, H?ra had wondered.

What was the human custom after sex?

Whatever most humans did, Madeleine had invited H?ra to stay.

“I don’t want you to go.” She was blushing again.

“We can figure out the rest tomorrow.”

H?ra approved, and carried Madeleine to bed to prove it.

For some reason, that made Madeleine blush again.

She’d blushed more when she’d put on her pajamas as H?ra watched appreciatively.

H?ra had to wear her clothes to bed, but she didn’t mind.

She was more than willing to lie here, accepting Madeleine’s intimate invitation , and curl their bodies together.

Somewhat to her surprise, Madeleine had gone right to sleep.

She’d relaxed against H?ra’s body instantly, as if someone had flipped a switch inside her and told her she was perfectly safe.

Which, of course, she was.

Now H?ra, too, began to relax against Madeleine’s warmth.

It was much less threatening than the fire’s.

Said fire was banked now, leaving H?ra to feel much the same way.

It was a fine feeling.

How long since she’d known satisfaction?

She’d thought, once, that it would come from beating a pair of wings against the wind.

She’d never do that now.

That was clear enough.

It had been folly to think she ever could.

Why would the Sire and herd have taken her back just because she reappeared and said she’d killed a human?

That had been her desperation talking.

She’d needed to believe that her dream could not be beyond her grasp forever.

Well, it was. In exchange for centuries with wings, H?ra now had an uncertain handful of weeks with the sleeping woman at her side.

Should Madeleine stay beyond the end of summer (and she’d said nothing about doing so), that didn’t change the particulars.

Even if they somehow managed to remain together without trouble, Madeleine would grow old and die long before H?ra would.

Not so long ago, Jonathan had told H?ra: Stop thinking like a child and look to the future .

She’d replied confidently that Madeleine’s return would solve every problem, but of course Jonathan had been right.

How irritating that humans, short-lived and limited, could see the bigger picture better than she could.

They were far from perfect—their history showed as much—but humans did a lot of things better.

Like grow. Like change.

Madeleine had said so herself.

Perhaps now wasn’t the time for deep reflection, though.

This bed was so comfortable.

Jonathan had done well to get Madeleine a new one.

And strangely, it seemed to have a magical property.

As she lay on it, H?ra grew heavier.

It was like the first time she’d come on land from the buoyancy of salt water.

Unlike then, her muscles also relaxed, and she was warm.

It was time to slow her metabolic system and rest. She’d had a long day, to say the least. She might close her eyes, although that wasn’t necessary.

Even her eyelids weighed her down tonight.

H?ra snuggled closer to Madeleine and closed her eyes, sinking into the heaviness.

The sea witch looked upon her.

Instead of resting on Madeleine’s bed, now H?ra stood in the middle of the whirlpool.

She was in human form.

Her feet, shod in her work boots, rested upon the sandy ocean floor.

The witch stood a few feet away.

Her face was hard as fossil.

She wasn’t swinging the other two humans in a circle—the man she’d loved and the woman he’d preferred.

Instead, the man and the woman stood behind her.

Their arms hung at their sides, and they looked at her with empty eye sockets.

Their faces appeared translucent as jellyfish, their skulls visible through the skin.

H?ra looked around wildly.

Where was the bed and the cottage?

Where was Madeleine?

Or—no—it was a good thing Madeleine wasn’t here.

Madeleine should never come within a mile of this creature and her victims. For that matter, H?ra had no idea why she was here either.

“Bring me your despair,” the witch said.

Her eyes were an abyss.

Light could not penetrate there.

Nevertheless, years ago, H?ra had managed to appeal to her.

She’d made the selfsame bargain the witch referenced now.

“You said I had to come back when I failed,” she said.

“I haven’t. Madeleine has come to me.”

The witch said nothing.

H?ra lifted her chin and looked into the abyss.

She said, “Even if I die for all this, I don’t regret my choice. I won’t despair. There’s nothing for me to give you.”

The witch’s mouth sliced open into a grin.

She was missing some teeth.

Those she did have, bleached white as any other bone, were sharp enough to put an Each-uisge ’s to shame.

“Not long now,” she said.

H?ra recoiled. “Why do you say that? And why—” She looked down at her human form.

“Why am I like this when I’m in the sea? How did I get here?”

“You are what you are.”

“Of course I am! What else could I be?”

“You are this.” The witch pointed one long, thin finger at H?ra.

“This, no more. Begone.”

“But...”

Behind the witch, the man and woman began to walk forward, toward H?ra.

They said nothing. They made no sound.

Last time, they had begun to scream?—

H?ra opened her eyes to find herself back in the bedroom with Madeleine still asleep.

She was so cold that even Madeleine’s body couldn’t warm her.

She was shaking. She leapt from the bed with a cry, looking around to make sure the witch and the whirlpool were gone.

Madeleine woke up with a gasp.

“H?ra?”

“How did it happen?” H?ra looked around again, and then down at Madeleine, who was propping herself up on her elbows and looking thoroughly discombobulated.

A lock of hair fell over her eyes.

“How did what happen?” Madeleine sat up and pushed the lock behind her ear.

“What’s wrong?”

“I was here, and then I was in the sea. With the witch. The one I told you about, in the whirlpool.” She was as spun about as if she truly were in the whirlpool.

“I closed my eyes, and I was there, and I opened them, and I was back here.”

Madeleine blinked, not looking nearly as alarmed as she ought to.

She probably didn’t believe it.

H?ra must sound out of her mind.

She pleaded, “I swear it. I can’t explain it, but it happened.”

“You were dreaming,” Madeleine said softly.

H?ra stared at her. Then she shook her head.

“No. I told you, my kind can’t dream. We can’t even sleep.”

“Not ever? You never sleep?”

“No, we…” H?ra’s voice trailed off.

She frowned. “It’s not safe. We slow our metabolisms—it’s easier to rouse from that if we’re attacked.” By a predator, or each other.

“That makes it sound like you can sleep.” Madeleine sounded remarkably reasonable for a woman who’d been awakened under these circumstances.

“It’s more that you don’t. You’re positive you can’t?”

“I…never thought about it.” H?ra was still shaking.

“I never have before. None of us did. It wasn’t safe.”

Madeleine regarded her.

Then she held out one hand.

“You’re safe here. Maybe your body knew that, and it let you sleep. And then you dreamed.”

The hand, slender and soft, was irresistible.

H?ra took it. It was warm too.

“That wasn’t safe,” she said unsteadily.

“The witch. It felt real. It must have been real.”

“Dreams usually feel real when we’re having them.” Madeleine squeezed her hand.

“It’s strange. But if you magically went to the whirlpool and came back, wouldn’t you be wet?”

That was a good point.

H?ra was perfectly dry, except for the sweat breaking out beneath her arms and in the small of her back.

Strange, to sweat when you were cold.

Strange to be cold at all.

“I dreamed?” That couldn’t be her voice, so small and afraid.

Madeleine squeezed H?ra’s hand gently.

“Do you want to tell me what it was about?”

Talking about the dream seemed like a bad idea.

H?ra had told Madeleine a little of how the witch had helped her escape from her family’s attempt on her life.

She hadn’t mentioned the witch’s specific demand for her despair.

Why bother explaining something so grim and impossible?

Better to avoid that.

She said gruffly, “I’d rather not discuss it.”

“Okay. But do you want to…”

“No. Just go back to sleep. My…dream…is over.”

“We call bad dreams nightmares.”

“Yes, I know. Night mare. It’s ungenerous to horses.”

Madeleine laughed, sounding surprised.

“I never thought about it like that. I wonder if that’s where the word comes from?” She rubbed a hand over her eyes.

“Maybe I’ll look it up in the morning. But are you sure you’re…”

“I’m fine. It wasn’t real.” If she said that again, then it might make it true.

The witch was not here.

Her thralls were not here.

“It wasn’t real.”

“No. It wasn’t.” Madeleine squeezed her hand again.

“But I’m sorry your first dream was so unpleasant.”

That was an understatement.

She placed her free hand on Madeleine’s shoulder.

“I’ll lie back down with you.”

“You’re sure?” Madeleine’s expression was both sleepy and hopeful.

To prove it, H?ra lay back down and pillowed her head on top of her folded arms. “Positive. Perhaps dreams aren’t so bad if I wake up again to this.”

Madeleine beamed, and in that moment, the witch’s cruel laugh was worth it.

“Really? I can’t look that good. I bet my hair’s a mess.”

It was, but H?ra had learned you weren’t supposed to agree with people when they said things like that.

She considered. “Is this what Jonathan calls ‘fishing for compliments’?”

“Caught.” Madeleine placed her hand on H?ra’s elbow.

“Pride’s one of my weaknesses, you know.”

“So you must like compliments.” That seemed easy enough to do.

There was no shortage of things to compliment Madeleine on.

Madeleine blushed in the shadows.

“I shouldn’t, but…no, you know what?” She propped herself up on one elbow.

The lock of hair fell from behind her ear again.

“I should . People like to be complimented, and that’s normal. Yes, I would like a compliment, if it’s a sincere one.”

“You have excellent breasts,” H?ra said, sincerely.

Madeleine stared at her.

Then she fell back down on her back and laughed.

H?ra frowned. “I wasn’t trying to be funny.”

“I know.” Madeleine rubbed a hand over her mouth and laughed again.

“Sorry. That’s sweet. Thanks. Yours are lovely too.”

H?ra immediately stopped being annoyed.

Madeleine was right: it was nice to be complimented.

“Thank you. You also have beautiful eyes.” Understatement.

“Many other things about you are beautiful. I could keep going.”

Madeleine’s smile softened, and those beautiful eyes glowed.

“Maybe you’d better not give me a big ego. Let’s see, I owe you another one…you’re very curious.”

H?ra remembered her reading.

“‘Curious’ has different meanings. Do you mean I’m odd?”

“No.” Madeleine’s fond smile suggested, however, that H?ra might be a little odd—just not in a bad way.

“I mean you’ve got lots of curiosity about the world and how it works. That’s a wonderful trait.”

H?ra’s bad dream was already nothing more than a dimly unpleasant memory.

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I—” Madeleine yawned and covered her mouth.

“Sorry. I do.”

“Don’t apologize.” H?ra had kept her from rest long enough.

“Go back to sleep. Do I get another goodnight kiss, or is the custom only one?”

Madeleine’s lips twitched.

A look of wonder appeared in her eyes.

“I think you and I might have to make our own customs.”

“Then let’s begin now.”

Madeleine leaned in.

Her kiss was softer than lambswool.

If all nightmares ended like this, they might not be so bad.

But she didn’t mean to chance it.

She’d stay on guard against sleep from now on.

There would be no second dream.

She left Madeleine before dawn with a soft kiss to her cheek.

“I must work.”

“Okay,” Madeleine mumbled, and she went promptly back to sleep.

H?ra chuckled and left.

It was nearly five in the morning, when the work of the farm began.

A raw sheep’s liver awaited her at home, and after last night’s activities, H?ra was ravenous.

Sex had fed another sort of hunger.

Sex with a human! Not so long ago, she couldn’t have imagined it.

How ashamed her mother Beathag would be.

Even her father, who had admired humans, couldn’t have countenanced it.

As for Asgall, he’d be insufferable.

None of that mattered, H?ra thought, as she tromped across the muddy ground toward the farmhouse.

Her biological family was gone.

Her chosen family was here, for however long it could last. And she had work to do.

If she hurried, she could finish the morning’s first tasks and return in time for breakfast with Madeleine and Jonathan.

Jonathan would be insufferable too, if he guessed what had happened between H?ra and Madeleine.

Just in a different way.

Oh, he’d be so pleased, with all his talk of love .

H?ra grinned up at the cloudy sky.

He didn’t have to know yet.

Madeleine would probably appreciate discretion.

It could be a delicious secret.

H?ra was tired of secrets that weighed her down, but this one was different.

It made her want to laugh in delight.

Delight . Madeleine’s mouth beneath her own.

Her fingers inside Madeleine’s softness, until Madeleine cried out in shocked pleasure.

They’d do it again, too.

That was delight, all right.

What was a nightmare compared to that?

This was real.

As she approached the farmhouse, her lips pursed.

A funny noise came from between them.

She’d heard Jonathan and the farmhands making such a sound.

A whistle. She was whistling.

She never had before.

Better not. Jonathan would guess instantly, if he heard her whistling.

No lights shone from the farmhouse windows.

He’d still be asleep, then.

Easier to slip in. H?ra glanced at his bedroom window as she passed it.

Then, by chance, she looked at the ground beneath it and stopped dead in her tracks.

There were footprints beneath Jonathan’s window.

H?ra frowned down at them.

The mud had hardened a little around the prints’ edges.

Whoever had left them must have done so hours ago.

She placed her own foot next to a print.

The footprint was longer, but its outline was slimmer.

Probably because she was wearing boots—there were toeprints too.

Someone had been creeping about while barefoot?

Had that someone broken in?

Taking a deep breath, H?ra unlocked the back door and slipped inside.

If an intruder awaited her, believing he’d face another human’s strength, he was in for a surprise.

If he’d hurt Jonathan, he was in for worse.

Silence and shadows.

Nothing moved.

H?ra took a knife from the block and proceeded forward.

No muddy footprints in here.

Wouldn’t an intruder have tracked dirt in?

She caught no unfamiliar scent.

She didn’t hear anybody breathing.

Her hunter’s instincts felt nothing strange in the air.

Jonathan’s door was shut.

She pushed it open slowly, holding her breath.

Please…

He lay beneath the duvet, his chest rising and falling regularly.

A quick glance round proved him to be the only occupant of the room.

Everything looked normal.

H?ra exhaled and shut the door again.

Good thing he hadn’t awakened to see her in his doorway brandishing a butcher knife.

She continued her inspection, already knowing that whoever had come last night was long gone.

Had someone wanted to burgle them?

She’d never heard of a barefoot burglar, and nothing seemed to be missing.

None of the windows were ajar or broken; the front door was also locked.

The television and computer were still here, and both Jonathan’s and H?ra’s bedrooms looked in order.

The strange intruder probably hadn’t entered the house at all.

She hurried out to the barn, still carrying the knife just in case.

No intruder lurked there either.

No equipment was missing, and that was the most expensive stuff they had.

The livestock dotted the green grass and hills.

She hadn’t heard any disturbance from them last night.

Then again, she’d been…

distracted.

H?ra bit her lip, harder than she’d bitten Madeleine’s.

Nothing bad had happened, she reminded herself as she turned back to the farmhouse.

Jonathan and Madeleine were both safe, as was the farm.

Disturbed, she replaced the knife and took a quick, cold shower.

Then she tried to sneak back to her room, wrapped in a towel…

just in time for Jonathan to shuffle through his bedroom door.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and startled to see her.

Shite. She must stand up straight and not be embarrassed.

She should be imposing, even.

H?ra threw her shoulders back and then had to stop the towel from falling down.

Jonathan stared at her.

His eyebrows went up.

A little smile found its way to his mouth.

“Morning,” he said. “When’d you get in?”

“Late,” she said in a clipped voice.

A secret. Our secret, Madeleine’s and mine .

“Mm. I was up till two.” His smile grew.

“Must’ve been late indeed.”

Oh, curse it.

He knew already. At least he seemed pleased about it, but H?ra glared at him anyway.

“Well, pay me no mind,” he said gently.

“I’m happy if you are, and that’s all I’ll say.”

She softened.

Just so long as he said nothing to Madeleine—but he would never.

“I’m happy. Why were you up so late?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” He yawned.

That was odd. Once Jonathan had stopped drinking, his sleep schedule became regular as clockwork.

Had he heard something?

“Someone was here last night,” she said.

Jonathan smoothed down the few strands of hair over his bald spot.

“What’s that?”

“I saw footprints outside the house. Just one person, I think.”

He stared at her.

“What the hell?”

“I know.” She couldn’t keep having this conversation in a towel.

“I checked everywhere. Nothing’s missing from the barn, and nobody got in the house. But someone was walking about outside last night. You heard nothing?”

Jonathan frowned.

“No, but my ears aren’t what they used to be. Where did you see footprints?”

“Let me dress and I’ll show you.” She adjusted her towel again.

“You know, the oddest thing? Whoever it was, was barefoot.”

She headed toward her bedroom, which had also been undisturbed.

Behind her, Jonathan was silent.

Then he said, “Barefoot?”

His voice sounded strange, but that was no wonder.

Someone had crept round their property.

H?ra felt strange about it too.

“Yes.”

He made no reply.

She dressed quickly, led him outside, and pointed at the footprints.

“There, you see?”

“Someone was right here?” Jonathan asked faintly.

He still wore his pajamas beneath a jacket, along with his work boots.

“At my own window?”

“Clearly. You didn’t hear anything?”

“No. I didn’t.” He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and stared at the footprints.

“Barefoot. Sure enough.”

“Who might have done it?” H?ra asked in bewilderment.

She’d lived among humans for five years but still hadn’t heard of any customs that had them walking round in the mud without shoes.

Jonathan never looked away from the footprints.

“Some village lad, I’d think. Sloshed and that.” At H?ra’s skeptical look, he added, “When I drank, I’d get into scrapes that made no sense. Did I ever tell you I woke up near those standing stones once, by the settlement? All I remember is I was singing ‘Dancing Queen’ at some point. Rest is a blur.”

Now wasn’t the time for Jonathan’s memories of darker days.

They ought to figure out the timing of this.

“You said you were up until two. It must have happened after that. Or were you watching television? You might not have heard anything if so.”

He laughed, though it sounded forced.

“I thought you hated those detective programs. Now you sound like one.”

“Jonathan…”

“If nothing’s missing and nobody was hurt, then I’ll not fret about it.”

Even for Jonathan, this was too laid-back.

“What if they return?”

“Well, that’s what the shotgun’s for, isn’t it?” he asked lightly.

H?ra stared at him. “The shotgun’s for sick or injured animals.”

“Christ, lass, you still haven’t learned sarcasm.” He patted her shoulder.

“Let’s get you something to eat before you work. You used up some energy last night, eh?”

H?ra pursed her lips.

She wouldn’t blush or stammer.

She wouldn’t . “Breakfast sounds good.”

“There’s still that sheep’s liver in the fridge.” He was smiling, but something about his expression still looked peculiar.

She couldn’t tell what.

It was in his eyes.

“Thanks,” was all she could say.

“Go on then. I’m away to bed.” At her raised eyebrows, he said, “I was up late, wasn’t I? I’m not half knackered. I’ll be up again soon.”

He gave the footprints one last look and turned back toward the front door, his head slightly bent.

“Did you have any dreams last night?” H?ra blurted.

Jonathan stopped in his tracks.

He looked halfway over his shoulder, but not enough to meet her eyes.

“Why do you ask?”

Because maybe you could tell me what it means to dream .

“I—I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“You tell me.” He shrugged.

“Maybe I’ll dream when I go back to sleep.”

Beware it, she wanted to cry, it’s awful .

Why say that? Jonathan had been dreaming his whole life.

All humans did. “Then sleep well.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said, and continued on, his boots gathering the mud with his shuffling walk.

His shoulders were stooped.

He looked old.

Dreams were an affliction.

H?ra glanced back toward the cottage where she’d left Madeleine sleeping.

Dreams were a condition of being human too.

Was Madeleine dreaming now?

If so, may they be kinder dreams than the one that had attacked H?ra.

May Madeleine dream about their incandescent night together.

May Madeleine dream about love.